Ghosts

Ghosts, in the dark of night Ghosts, in the moonlight Ghosts, in the shadows of my mind Ghosts, in the Polaroids from younger times All these visions feel just like A dream where the seams have frayed Ghosts, waiting for the break of dawn Ghosts, still afraid of moving on Ghosts, in the chains I'm dragging from my past Ghosts, in the compass when I read my maps And all these visions feel just like A dream where the seams have frayed Like an ocean spilling over in the wake May I burn this book to ashes and fill the sky with sage Must the stories fall to ruins before I turn the page May I throw it in the fire with all the fear and shame So translucent slates and windows are all that remain All these visions feel just like a dream Where the seams have frayed Like an ocean spilling over in the wake Is this a dream Have all the seams frayed Like an ocean spilling over in the wake Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts